Special Agent Useless
by ytteb
Summary: After a bad week Gibbs is feeling low - can anything help him? Team fic - but they don't belong to me


Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sighed heavily, threw his head back and gazed at the ceiling of his basement. No comfort there, all he could see in the dim light were cobwebs and patches of peeling paint ... another pointless job waiting to be done. He thought for a moment of throwing his chisel violently into the corner but restrained himself; there had been enough senseless destruction already without him adding to it.

People always assumed that it was cases involving children which got to him and they were right, to a degree. But they weren't entirely right – Gibbs hated disorder which, to him, meant people who didn't live up to their responsibilities, who let people down, who caused unnecessary pain, who just believed themselves to be the centre of the world and saw other people just as means to their end. To Gibbs duty, at its finest, should keep the world turning a bit more smoothly. The world was dangerous enough without _people_ screwing it up even more.

Tonight, after a week of trying to restore order, 'boat, basement and bourbon' were just not cutting it for him. He had seen his team work themselves into the ground in their search for justice. Not, he hoped and believed, just because they wanted to please him but because they shared his passion even if they showed it in different ways. And in the end their case had been solved by accident when the criminals had been caught in the act after a random stop and search was carried out by Metro PD. The closing of the case had been strangely anti-climactic – the satisfaction of the criminals behind bars was there, the certainty that there would be no more victims was there but somehow something was missing and Gibbs felt oddly uncertain and doubtful, unsure of the value of what he and the team had done.

At first he had thought that the rest of the team had shrugged it off better than he had. No more stakeouts to organize, no bolos to pore over or warrants to apply for and an earlier start to their weekend than expected. He'd soon realised he was wrong though. An hour after he had got home when he had barely got down to the basement, Abby had arrived. It turned out that she was worried that she had missed something in the chemical composition of the gunk left at the first crime scene. Gibbs didn't really understand the technicalities but he knew enough to trust Abby completely and so he let her talk through her thought processes (trying valiantly to follow the labyrinthine tracks) until she had persuaded herself that she hadn't missed anything and that her findings had not been specific enough to narrow down a suspect.

'Thanks, Gibbs,' she said as she left with a kiss to his cheek, 'you always make me feel better.' She ran up the stairs as fast as she could in her skull and crossbones diamante platforms.

About half an hour later, Ducky had arrived.

'Ah, Jethro, I'm sorry to intrude but I wonder if you could help me with this ...' He had a small oak box in his hand and he fished out a small plaque from a pocket. He explained that the box had belonged to his father and he now planned to give it as a present to one of his bridge partners – the plaque was engraved to show his friend's name but he now realized he had no way of affixing it. Could Jethro help? Gibbs made short work of screwing the plaque to the box and also gave it a final polish. As he worked he let Ducky tell one of his meandering stories.

'Many thanks, Jethro. Cheerio.' Ducky also made his way up the stairs although at a more sedate pace than Abby. Jethro smiled to himself; he knew that the doctor wasn't seeing his friend until the middle of the next week. He had just needed a bit of company after a difficult week and Gibbs didn't mind indulging him.

Shortly afterwards McGee had arrived. This was a bit unusual as Tim normally knocked on the door but this time he came in without invitation. This raised a few alarm bells with Gibbs – he must be feeling quite off his game to forget his usual politeness. It turned out that McGee was a bit concerned that he had not been as efficient as he could have been in his computer tracking and that maybe he should have thought of some other angle to triangulate the crime scenes and create a computer model to predict the next one. Gibbs asked a few searching questions and Tim recovered his nerve enough to give good responses.

'That's a good idea about the computer model, McGee. Didn't get to use it this time but don't forget about it ... might be useful another time. Nothing's ever wasted, Tim, remember that.'

'Is that a rule, Boss?'

'Might make it one. Go on, go home and rest. Good job today.'

McGee nodded gratefully and also headed up the stairs.

Ziva and McGee must have crossed at the front door because the next thing Gibbs saw was her feet coming down the stairs.

'What you want, Ziver?' asked Gibbs. But Ziva had been uncharacteristically uncertain. She said she had been in the area and thought she might just drop in. Gibbs knew that Ziva didn't like people to know when she was feeling a bit low so he just let her wander round the basement. He watched as she picked up a file, then a wrench and then a piece of sandpaper. Finally she said,

'It is nice here. I find it quite soothing ... safe. Thank you Gibbs.' She gave her typical bob of the head and was off up the stairs before Gibbs had a chance to say anything.

And now Gibbs realized that something or rather, someone, was missing. DiNozzo hadn't padded down the stairs carrying a box of pizza or Chinese takeout as he would usually do if he was feeling uncertain about the case. For a moment Gibbs wondered whether Tony was the only one who wasn't disturbed by the week's events but he soon dismissed that thought. DiNozzo was as dedicated as he was even if he didn't always show it and he had worked as hard as anyone on the case. Gibbs felt a sudden stab of anxiety. What if Tony was at home, drinking himself into oblivion – it hardly ever happened now that Tony knew he could come and find rough solace with his boss. His boss who had slunk out of the bullpen earlier that night without a word to anyone, his boss who, he might be thinking, wanted nothing to do with his team.

Before he knew it, Gibbs was following in the footsteps of his previous visitors and rivalling Abby for speed – in fact he was faster than Abby as his footwear was a little more practical. Soon he was banging on Tony's door demanding to be let in.

'Hey, Boss, come in,' said Tony as he opened the door. Gibbs looked at him closely – he'd changed into a pair of old worn jeans and had a comfy sweater on, he looked tired but his eyes looked calm. Gibbs leaned forward and sniffed him. Tony jerked back,

'I've had a shower, I shouldn't smell.'

'Just testing to see if you've been drinking.'

'Technically still on call till midnight, Boss so haven't hit the good stuff yet.'

'Hmmph.' Gibbs slumped on to Tony's sofa, he suddenly felt at a loss. Tony looked fine, _was_ fine so why had he come?

'Rough week, uh Boss? All that running around and then some rookie cop solved it all without us needing to lift a finger. Seems a bit pointless, really.'

'Never pointless, DiNozzo. Doesn't really matter who caught that lowlife, all that matters is that they're off the street. We'd have got them in the end if needed. No, never pointless.'

'Well, _you're_ not anyway. Coffee?' Gibbs looked at the clock.

'Gone midnight, not on call now. How about something stronger?'

Tony gave a delighted smile. He knew that meant that the Boss would be sleeping on his sofa that night. He moved towards the kitchen to get the glasses. At the door he turned,

'So, Gibbs, did you have any visitors tonight?'

Gibbs looked up sharply but his host had already moved into the kitchen so he couldn't see the expression on his face. Gibbs was sometimes a betting man but, at that moment, he wouldn't have bet against there being a slightly smug expression on DiNozzo's face. He'd known that Gibbs had felt useless that day and somehow had managed to send his team mates to 'visit' him so that the Boss could 'comfort' them and be a 'far from useless' team leader. DiNozzo had found a way to let Gibbs find himself and his perspective once more.

Bourbon glass clinked against bourbon glass.

'Good job, Tony, good job.'


End file.
